


This Beastly Salvation

by adnihilum (fiat_lux)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adultery, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bisexual Remus Lupin, Blood and Injury, Bondage and Discipline, Bottom Remus Lupin, Captured, Cheating, Collars, Comfort Sex, Complicated Relationships, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, England (Country), Escape, Espionage, Everyone Is Gay, F/M, Fight Sex, Gay Panic, Grief/Mourning, Heavy Angst, Imprisonment, Leashes, Lucius Malfoy Being an Asshole, M/M, Malfoy Manor (Harry Potter), Masochism, Minor Lucius Malfoy/Narcissa Black Malfoy, Minor Remus Lupin/Nymphadora Tonks, Minor Sirius Black/Remus Lupin, Obsession, Puppy Play, Remus Lupin Needs a Hug, Sadism, Slow Burn, Top Lucius Malfoy, Werewolf Remus Lupin, Werewolves, surrender
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-17 15:20:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28727244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fiat_lux/pseuds/adnihilum
Summary: Still reeling after the death of Sirius Black and frightened of his feelings for Nymphadora Tonks, Remus Lupin proposes a reckless scheme to gather intelligence by allowing himself to be captured by the Dark Forces. After the Order reluctantly agrees, Lupin quickly finds himself in the charge of Lucius Malfoy. Having narrowly escaped capture and consequent imprisonment in Azkaban following the battle at the Department of Mysteries, Malfoy is desperate to regain control over something... or someone. The Death Eater does his best to make the werewolf's life hellish, but when Lupin doesn't break, the two men are forced to face a stark reality: that learning to trust one another may be the key to their mutual salvation.
Relationships: Lucius Malfoy/Narcissa Black Malfoy, Remus Lupin/Lucius Malfoy, Remus Lupin/Nymphadora Tonks, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 14
Kudos: 18





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!! I’m returning to writing fanfic after ten years away! This fic came to me in one hour after a random conversation with a friend and I have not been able to stop thinking about it since. It will be a slow burn, and there will be a lot of darkness and adult content along the way. I suspect it will get very juicy. I'm hoping to update every other week at least for the foreseeable future. For today, let’s begin with some heartache. 
> 
> I’d like to make it abundantly clear that I do not support J.K. Rowling or any of her views. I continue to enjoy Harry Potter because I think it’s been our world far longer than her’s, at this point, and because there is no greater snub to her than to hold tighter to Hogwarts and make it our own gay, trans, BIPOC haven. Fuck J.K. Rowling, and fuck anyone who doesn’t engage with her work critically. :)

_“Come on! You can do better than that!”_

Remus awoke with a start, lurching upright, panic coursing through his veins like acid. His eyes flashed around the room, desperately seeking out his friend, who had been standing so precariously close to the Veil only moments before—but Sirius was nowhere to be found. Remus Lupin was, of course, no longer in the Department of Mysteries. He was in a drab, grey room. Alone. The terror and desperation warping his face melted away, replaced with the empty stare of a man exhausted by grief. 

Remus fell back onto the sheets, grimacing at the cold damp that greeted him. All of him was a sweaty mess; shaggy grey-brown hair pasted to his forehead, legs wound up in the clinging, wet bedding. He tried his best to brush his hair off of his face and kick his legs out from under the blankets, but his freedom was evidently more difficult to gain than he’d expected. He swore under his breath, hissing through his teeth as he kicked and pulled furiously at the blankets. By the time the outburst was over, the wizard was left naked and embarrassed on the mattress. 

He laid there for a moment, arms flung out at his sides, staring up at the peeling ceiling. There was a creak outside of his door, followed by an unpleasant mumbling. Remus’s eyes, cast a deep forest green in the dim light peeking its way through the aging drapes, flashed for a moment—but his anger was gone just as quickly as it had arrived. The wizard chose to groan rather than yelling at the house-elf outside, pulling his forearm above his head and burying his eyes in the crook of his elbow. 

Remus remained that way for some time, even after Kreacher’s grumblings had faded away down the corridor. His breathing slowed, became deeper, and his eyes had just begun to slip shut again when there was a great fumbling of footsteps and thunderous voices outside. “In Merlin’s name…” Remus hissed again, rolling over onto his side and pulling himself upright. 

“You up, Lupin?” The voice used his last name; one of his former students. Remus gritted his teeth, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees before burying his face in his hands.

“Oi? Lupin?” another voice, almost identical. The Weasley twins. 

“If I wasn’t awake before, gentlemen, I am now,” the former professor responded in his rumbling, if muffled, baritone. The boys sniggered. 

“Mum’s summoned us back for lunch. Figured you might benefit from nosh too, eh?” the first speaker chimed in. Lupin could almost see them stacked on their tippy-toes as they peered around the doorframe, hands shoved into their pockets, lopsided grins pasted across their freckled faces. He sighed, rubbing his eyes and straightening up.

“Thank you, boys,” Lupin replied. “I’ll be down shortly.” 

The boys, seemingly satisfied with his response, thundered away down the corridor, toward the stairs. 

Lupin groaned as he stood up, catching himself on the rickety bedside table when one of his legs gave out. He cursed under his breath, habitually bracing himself for the response he should’ve been getting: Sirius’s playful sneer, the teasing that would’ve sat in his voice if he could see Lupin creaking and cracking like this after nothing more than a simple night’s sleep. The memory was enough to make him swoon again, but Remus held himself taut, squeezing his eyes shut until the notion passed. 

He took a few wobbling steps toward the wardrobe that sat on the far side of the room, but paused when he caught sight of himself in the mirror. An utter mess. He clenched his jaw again, nostrils flaring. “What to do with this?” 

He glanced at the clock on the bedside table, which he’d ignored before. “Molly’ll have my head if I stop to shower…” he sighed, clicking his tongue as he finished crossing the room. He dressed with some trepidation, as if he didn’t trust all of his movements, pulling on clothing slowly as he encountered each new bruise and fresh cut. In the end, he had chosen a pair of worn brown slacks and a pilled wool cardigan pulled over a white undershirt. Rather than worry about his hair, the wizard quickly conjured a knitted cap from his worn luggage at the other side of the room, rubbing his face vigorously with his free hand before pulling the hat over his head. He still looked a mess, but at least he didn’t look a _greasy_ one.

He ambled down to the kitchen and pushed open the door, eyes starting to brighten when the smell of bacon hit his nose. 

“Ah, there you are, Remus,” Molly Weasley clucked from where she stood by the oven, back to the door, conducting several tasks with her wand. Lupin was confused, at first, until he saw Tonks. She was standing beside the other witch, facing the door, and there could be no doubt that it was her sudden, beaming smile that alerted Mrs. Weasley to his presence. 

“Good afternoon, ladies,” Remus offered a gentle smile at Tonks, doing his best not to register the flip of excitement his stomach did as he shuffled toward the long-benched table. Fred and George were already sitting down, pouring over the morning’s _Daily Prophet_. “I hope I didn’t delay you too much.

“Not at all,” Tonks grinned, giving Molly a gentle pat on the shoulder before grabbing a tea serving tray from the countertop and beginning to cross the space between her and the wizard. “We only just finished with the tea.” 

“Ah, thank you,” Remus nodded, gesturing to the tabletop where Tonks could set everything down. She did so quietly, colour rising to her cheeks as he watched her. The Weasley twins made googly eyes at each other, but Lupin didn’t seem to have the energy to shut them up. 

“I knew it’d be quiet, with everyone gone… but I didn’t think it’d be _this_ quiet,” Tonks muttered as she put two cubes of sugar into Lupin’s tea. She didn’t have to ask his preference, anymore, although when Lupin thought back on it, she may have only asked him once. It often seemed as though she knew more about him than he did. 

“It’s always a bit strange, isn’t it?” Molly agreed as she directed multiple plates of breakfast foods over to the table: fried and scrambled eggs, still-sizzling bacon, hash browns and sausages, perfectly buttered toast with all the fixings. Tonks caught the way Remus was eyeing the food and burst out into laughter. 

“What?!” he scoffed, looking to the younger witch with wide eyes and an expression of total, genuine bewilderment. This only caused her to laugh harder. 

“You look about ready to eat a horse, s’all,” she snickered. 

Her smile and rosey cheeks were enough to make him forget himself for a moment. In his mind’s eye, he saw himself grabbing her around the waist, pulling her down into his lap, burying his face in her neck and assuring her that he’d happily settle for a Metamorphmagus, instead. She seemed to register the look of mischief and desire in his eyes, and her colour deepened, breath caught in her throat. But then the image in his mind flashed to him biting her in jest, drawing blood, and he flinched, turning away and swinging his legs under the table so that he could begin serving himself. Tonks, looking crestfallen, moved down the bench so that they weren’t sitting directly beside one another. 

“We’d be happy to make three to six times the same amount of noise, mum, if it’d help keep the morale up,” Fred chimed in. “And at least eight times the amount of mess.”

“The only reason your mouth should be open right now, Fred Weasley, is if you’re putting food in it,” Molly made a threatening gesture at her sons with her fork, and both twins smirked at each other as they began piling food onto their plates. 

“Was the brunch on my account?” Lupin interjected a few moments later, finding the tension between him and Tonks too unbearable to leave to silence. 

“Only a bit,” Tonks replied. She didn’t look at him, but there was a gentle smile on her lips when she said it. A white flag.

“Well, I appreciate it,” Lupin replied, gladly accepting the flag and offering his own through a gracious dip of his head at the witch when she passed him the salt before he’d managed to ask for it. “I haven’t ah… I haven’t been sleeping very much.” 

The other’s faces faltered, but Molly hopped back into the conversation before Lupin had time to regret his words. “It’s a miracle how any of us,” she looked pointedly at her sons, “do.” 

“The sleep of the innocent,” the boys spoke in unison, each shrugging the opposite shoulder. 

“The innocent, indeed!” The declaration was all Molly needed to launch into a frustrated rant, decrying the boys’ newest living situation, the fact that she had to summon her own sons to ensure they got at least one well-rounded meal a day…

Tonks cleared her throat, pausing a forkful of food on her way up to her mouth as she watched Lupin spread marmalade over his toast. The wizard paused, casting her a look out of the corner of his eye. “What is it, Tonks?” 

She scrunched up her face for a moment before looking off to the Weasleys. “There’s a meeting tonight,” she finally spoke, “once the others can get away from work.” 

Lupin clenched his jaw, tightening the grip on his butter knife. “To decide what’s next.”

“Right,” Tonks nodded, putting her food in her mouth and beginning to chew before continuing, one hand haphazardly covering her mouth. “Figured you might wan-to wash up befor-then,” she mumbled, waving her fork at him. He blinked at her, feigning insult for a moment, before letting out a small smirk and looking back to his food. Again, the man found a witty reply at the tip of his tongue, one he wanted to utter with the exclusive intention of watching this witch’s face light up. But he knew better. He settled for a thank you, instead. 

“Shacklebolt’s been thinking—"

“Would it be alright if we saved that talk for the meeting?” Lupin cut her off, opening his mouth as if to take another bite of his toast but choosing to turn toward her, instead. Her eyes were wide, waiting for an explanation. “It’s not that I don’t care about your opinion, it’s just the boys and—”

“And you need a break,” she replied with a smile that seemed far warmer than he deserved. “That’s okay. You deserve one.”

Lupin looked for a moment like he wanted to protest, but she bit her lip and gave him the slight shake of a head, and he let out a soft laugh, looking back at his food and giving his head a small shake before continuing his meal. A break. As if he ever got one of those, anymore. 

***

The afternoon passed by in a dreary blur; a hushed conversation with Molly while they cleaned, an awkward refusal of Tonks’s offer to talk, a hallway jostle with the boys as they headed back to their work. When he finally managed a shower, he spent an embarrassingly long part of it with his forehead against the tile, letting the hot water run until it was ice cold, and staying for a while longer, until he had gone so numb that he could no longer feel the water hitting his skin at all. 

When he was finished dressing, having donned a new pair of trousers and a deep red cable-knit sweater, he looked at the clock. There was still time before the others would start to arrive. Too much time.

As if summoned by his thoughts alone, there was a knock at his door. Remus froze, a shadow of concern passing across his face, a dozen worst-case scenarios flashing through his mind. He lunged for the door too quickly, so that by the time he got there, he had to lean against the frame to steady himself. It was Tonks, of course—only Tonks, her hair newly fiery, vibrant yellow cat’s eyes replacing the kind ones she’d had in the kitchen, features sharpened. She had decided not to take his no for an answer. His chest burned.

“There’s nothing to talk about, Tonks,” Remus spoke before she could, resting his head against the doorframe and leaning into it in his lithe, relaxed way. He should’ve known, of course, and perhaps did, the effect that his pose would have, tilting his chin down and looking down the length of his crooked nose at the witch, beard freshly oiled, hair recently dried. 

“Oh, that’s enough,” Tonks rolled her eyes, pushing past Remus and making her way into his room, eyes flashing to an icy blue. He raised his brows, reaching a hand up to massage the back of his neck as he spun on his heel to watch her. She stopped her frustrated march into the room to spin around on her heels and look at him. 

“Aren’t you going to close that?”

“I will not be closing the door, no,” Lupin offered her a tired, crooked smile. 

“Then I’ll close it for you,” she snapped, reaching into her pocket and raising her wand to cast it shut.

“You won’t be, either,” Remus interjected, raising his hand and putting it squarely in the middle of the door’s path, “unless you are about to reveal to me your hidden talents for mending broken hands.”

Tonks’s face contorted with frustration, even as she lowered her wand. 

“I seem to remember that you rather enjoy these hands.”

The words exited his mouth before he could stop them, and the dread he felt after saying them was almost instantaneous. Tonks turned bright red, blush spreading from her chest to her ears, and the colour of her hair softening to a strawberry blonde. Lupin brought his hand to his face, smothering his features and turning away, shoulders hunching with his anger and regret.

Tonks seized her opportunity, lifting her wand and slamming the door shut before crossing the space in four angry strides and shoving Lupin backwards with all her might. It caused him to lose his balance, caught off-guard as he was, and he stumbled back against the wall, bracing himself at the last minute. 

“Tonks, please…”

“Don’t _do_ that, Remus,” she snarled, placing both of her smaller hands on his chest and continuing to push him. “Don’t play with me like that.” 

“Isn’t that what you want?” he spat, turning his face away from hers even as she pressed up against him. He could feel her wand, still in her grasp, digging into his side until his words registered. She faltered, took a step back.

“You don’t mean that,” she muttered, crossing her arms and looking toward the wardrobe. 

“Don’t I? Contrary to what you seem to believe, you aren’t _actually_ an Occulumens,” Remus snarled, straightening himself and tugging his sweater down to its proper length. 

“I take it back,” Tonks turned her back on the wizard, colouring becoming more of a grey-blue. “I’ll take your games if the alternative is this cruelty.”

 _Cruelty_. The word cut deeply, and yet it felt like a balm. “Perhaps it would be better that way,” Remus sighed, loping over to the window and pulling a curtain. There was nothing outside to see, but it was better than watching her deflated, wounded, staring at the same wardrobe she had tucked some of her belongings into only weeks before. 

“More things you don’t mean. I don’t need to stare into your mind to know that, Lupin. There’s no sense lying to either of us.” 

“Perhaps this is the part where my greatest lie is revealed,” Lupin sneered. “Perhaps you’ve been fooled this entire time.” 

Tonks was quiet, but her light footsteps belied her approach towards him. And then it was her smell, soft and spiced, as she came up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist. He almost managed to maintain his cool exterior, but then her forehead was rested against his bicep, and he could feel unheaved sobs rising in his chest. He blinked them away furiously, gritting his jaw.

“I don’t understand how you don’t see it. Everyone I love—everyone, Tonks—dies. It’s purely luck that I haven’t been the one to kill them, yet. Or worse, turn them.” Remus did turn to her now, eyes narrowed, brows knitted together, face a map of scars and premature lines. “If you stay, you are condemned. It’s that simple.”

“It’s not and you _know_ it,” Tonks replied in a pleading voice, reaching her hand up to his chest again, but tugging at his sweater, now, instead of pushing him away. “Sirius left an emptiness that no one else will be able to fill, Remus, and that’s just a fact. That hole is a part of you, now, exactly the same way he’s always been a part of you. But it doesn’t mean that there’s not room for anything else.”

“If I let anyone else in, they will only leave more holes when they go, and soon enough, there will be nothing left of me to hold it all together,” Lupin dismissed her, voice thick with unshed tears. 

“That’s not true,” Tonks shook her head, “there’s more of you than any man I’ve ever known.” 

Lupin smiled, pulling her close and resting his chin atop her head. “In another life,” he breathed, his body beginning to soften against her still warmth, “there would be enough of me left, and I would give all of it to you, without second thought. I would spirit you away, to somewhere no one knows who… or what,” he glanced out the window, letting his hand rub habitually against her shoulder, “I am. I would let you convince me that you could be safe with me, and we would be happy.” 

“And in this life?” Tonks whispered, looking up at him. Her eyes were human again. They were filled with tears.

“In this life,” he answered, voice nearly a whisper, “I have to hold myself together. I have to keep whatever’s left, so that I can keep going. It’s more than us, Tonks. It’s everyone. It’s Harry—” his voice choked, Sirius’s proud face flashing in his mind, “and I can’t protect any of them if I lose any more of myself.” 

Tonks’s frame tightened, and Lupin felt her begin to pull away. He tried to hold her close at first, but when she looked up at him again, face broken open with grief, he was overcome with the selfishness of his desire to keep her near. He let go, and she faltered, but kept her composure. 

“You’re wrong, Remus. Love is what holds us together, not… isolation. Not bitterness and regret.” Her voice was like cold steel. Lupin felt himself shiver. “But I cannot be the one to wait and beg you to see that, to stitch yourself back together. You and I both know that I… I deserve more than that.” 

Lupin’s brows turned upward, a heartbroken smile bending his mouth as his shoulders sagged. “You do."

She hesitated, watching him for a moment. They were silent, staring at each other. And then there were a series of loud bangs, accompanied by the low rumble of the other members of the Order shambling into the foyer. Tonks blinked as if being broken from a charm, glancing to the closed bedroom door. She pulled the sleeves of her black turtleneck down and clenched her jaw, turning back to Lupin.

“I love you, Remus Lupin.” 

“I know,” Lupin replied, voice cracking partway through his response. 

“And I know you love me,” she snapped, lifting her chin.

“I do,” Lupin nodded, offering another crooked, resigned smile as he leaned against the window frame. 

“Good,” Tonks nodded back, snapping her heels together and standing at attention, taking a big huff of air. “Then at least,” her brave front shuddered for a moment, tears starting to well up again, “at least we have that.” 

She turned, not waiting for any further response from her lover, and strode from the room, leaving the door wide open behind her. Lupin watched her walk out, that same empty, exhausted expression returned to his face.

“Filthy, stinking beast,” Kreacher’s low growl rose up from the hallway. “Disgusting mongrel, ruining this most noble house, defiling our daughters...” 

Lupin’s nostrils flared, and he straightened up, reaching for his wand on the bedside table and tucking it into his belt loop. “You’re not wrong, you know,” he sighed as he walked toward the door. The house-elf paused, looking over his shoulder, arms curled up against his chest.

“It dares speak to us,” he growled, turning away and beginning his slow tour once more. “As if we could hear and understand its beastly snarls.” 

Lupin scoffed, shutting his bedroom door behind him and waving his hand to turn the lock as he strode past Kreacher. “They should all be so lucky,” he spoke quietly over his shoulder as he walked away, “to see me for what I am.” 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last bit of set up before Lucius appears! Enjoy!

“We have to face the facts. Without more information, we’re sitting ducks.” Kingsley Shacklebolt finished his speech, looking around the crowded kitchen with a grim expression on his face. The other members of the Order murmured to each other, eyes darting from one person to the next.

“As you continue to remind us, Shacklebolt,” Arthur Weasley sighed, fidgeting in his seat near the head of the table. Molly rested a hand on his shoulder, but he paid no mind to it, continuing to stare Kingsley down.

“And I will _continue_ to remind you,” Shacklebolt retorted, eyes narrowed, “until someone offers a solution that isn’t just ‘wait for Severus Snape to tell us something useful.’”

A grumble of agreement sounded around the room. Moody opened his mouth to speak, but Lupin cut him off, stepping away from the wall he’d been leaning against and raising a hand out in front of him. “We know better,” he cut in, eyes scanning the room, “than to speak for someone who is not here. Continuing to denounce someone Dumbledore trusts is no more a solution than blindly trusting the man.” 

Another series of grumbles, although there was less of a consensus among them now. 

“Then what would _you_ suggest, Remus?” Shacklebolt asked, turning in his seat to look at the other wizard. The other members followed suit, with the exception of Mundungus Fletcher, who was sitting upon the countertop, picking at his nails. Lupin swallowed, willing himself not to look at anyone other than Shacklebolt. Especially not Tonks. 

“Use me.”

The words were easier to say than he’d anticipated. They felt simple, clean, as if he’d done nothing more than utter his own name.

The reaction in the room was far more exaggerated: hushed whispers, a couple of small gasps, and of course Tonks lunging forward, eyes wide. “Absolutely not,” she snapped, crossing her arms. “We’d have to be stark raving mad to let you go out there alone.” 

Moody bristled. “I appreciate yer loyalty, Tonks,” he grumbled, “but I think it’s best we hear the man out.” 

Tonks’s face turned bright red, lips crunching up into a deep scowl, but she kept her mouth shut after Hestia Jones cast her a quieting look. Tonks scoffed audibly, stepping back and wrapping her arms more tightly against her body. Lupin managed not to look back at her, although it took all of his effort. He clenched his jaw when she was done her outburst, re-focusing on Shacklebolt.

“I can go out pretending to look for the wolves. Severus can make the arrangements for them to find me and bring me in. We’ll have to find something enchanted, some way to relay the information back to you as it happens, in case they tire of me before you can get to me, but… I don’t believe they’ll kill me. Not right away, at least,” Lupin let out a small, breathless laugh. No one echoed him. “They’ll want information from me just as badly as I want information from them.” 

Shacklebolt, Moody, and the Weasleys’ eyes were dark, but they remained silent. 

“You see the sense of it, then,” Remus sighed, letting his shoulders slump, slipping his hands into his pockets. The elder members of the Order shifted in their seats, casting their eyes anywhere in the room but at Lupin himself. 

“This is mad,” Tonks breathed from behind Remus. “None of you can possibly be considering this.” 

“It’s a plausible enough reason for him to leave, Tonks, and you know it,” Moody barked, electric blue eye swivelling up to her while he continued to stare at Remus.

“Just because it’s _plausible_ doesn’t mean that it’s _wise_ !” Tonks shouted, eyes widening once more. “Even if by some miracle Voldemort _doesn’t_ decide to kill Remus, he’ll still be—still be tortured, wounded, and if he survives—” the young Auror pushed forward, tugging at his sweater, forcing him to look back over his shoulder at her. “Remus, even if you survive, how do you reckon we’ll be able to just waltz in and rescue you? What makes you think we can pluck you from the belly of the beast whenever we please?” 

Lupin clenched his jaw, casting her a cool glance over his shoulder before shaking her off of his arm and turning back to the others. “Not _whenever_ you please. But after a full moon, you could. When I’m at my weakest. They won’t be watching me, then.” 

“What makes you think they won’t kill you before you change in the first place?” Tonks barked, not missing a beat. Lupin lowered his eyes.

“I think they’ll find it entertaining, having a pet wolf.” His breath shook for a moment and he had to pause, squeezing his eyes shut, willing himself to maintain his composure before looking back up. “They fear Greyback, but me… a werewolf who masquerades as a wizard… I’ll be a novelty. Something to be paraded. Toyed with. They’ll keep me until the first full moon, at the very least.” 

Shacklebolt frowned, looking off into the distance for a moment. Moody’s eye rolled about wildly for a moment before landing back on Remus.

“You’ve done quite a lot of thinking about this, Remus,” the retired Auror grumbled.

“I have,” Remus replied, looking up and taking a long, slow breath. “It’s the best that I can do, for all of us.” 

“I won’t hear it,” Tonks interrupted again, her voice swollen with tears. “I won’t stand by while you all condemn him to death. I won’t stand by while _you_ ,” Tonks pointed her voice at Lupin like a knife, sharp enough to make him flinch even when he wasn’t looking at her, “commit suicide.” 

“You don’t have to stay, Tonks,” Lupin murmured, looking back over his shoulder again as he offered her a sad smile. “It might be for the best.” 

The look she gave him was one of sheer, unbridled rage. He winced when her hand went to her pocket, worried that she might be going for her wand, but she was only gathering herself before turning and storming out of the room, shaking as she went. Hestia looked around at the others, clearly waiting for someone else to step up, but sighed and followed after Tonks a moment later. Their raised voices echoed through the house even once the kitchen door was closed again. 

“It _could_ be suicide, you know, Remus,” Molly finally cut through the charged silence, her mouth drawn in a serious line.

“Oh, come on then, Molly,” Remus offered her a crooked smile and an affable wink, “you have to know I trust you all more than that.” 

Colour rose in her cheeks, and she clucked her tongue, reaching down and beginning to wring her apron with both hands. Arthur’s eyebrows dug down as he watched Remus, but he said nothing. 

“When would you propose that we do this, Remus?” Shacklebolt asked. Lupin blinked, reaching up to scratch at his beard.

“The next full moon is in three days. I take my potion, I change… and Severus arranges the time and the place soon after.” 

“And the enchantment? How do we keep an eye on you?” Moody cut in. 

“That I’m… less sure about,” Remus admitted, looking off at nothing. “It’d have to be something they wouldn’t suspect. Small, forgettable, ideally attached to my body.”

“An earring, then?” Fletcher chimed in, jumping down from the counter and wiping his nose. The room’s eyes transferred to him in one motion. “That’d be easy enough. I’ve got a man.” 

“A man who sells enchanted earrings?” Shacklebolt regarded him with an utterly deadpan expression.

“ _No_ ,” Fletcher pulled a face at the senior Auror, “I’ve go’ a cousin in Hackney who runs a pawn shop.” 

“Pawn shop’s no good,” Moody grumbled, “we’ll need to know the original source.” 

“Then wha’ about all the jewelry ‘ere?” Fletcher asked, bringing his thumb up to his mouth and beginning to dig between his two front teeth with his thumbnail. Molly grimaced, looking away from him, but the others in the room continued to stare him down.

“The jewelry _here_?” Remus asked, perking up. “Why would you know anything about that?”

“There’s loads of it,” Mundungus continued, ignoring Remus. “Rings, bracelets, earrings, some old necklaces—you could ‘ave someone test it, make sure none of the sisters Black did anythin’ to it, but then you could enchant it as you like.” 

Moody looked back to Remus, raising one of his wild eyebrows. “It could be done.”

Remus nodded. 

“We won’t be able to plan your escape until we know where they’ve taken you,” Shacklebolt cautioned, pulling at one of his richly dyed sleeves. 

“You will not,” Lupin inclined his head. “Just another reason I’ll have to trust in you.” 

“And who do you expect to listen in on all of this, then? Which one of us do you plan on forcing to hear you be tortured for hours on end?” Molly snapped, cheeks reddening.

“I’d recommend that you take shifts,” Remus replied, offering her a wry smile. Molly rolled her eyes, turning and walking over to the stovetop, grabbing a kettle and beginning to fuss with it. “And I’ll remember as much as I can, of course. Fill in the blanks with what you can’t see.” 

“And if we fail?” Moody cut in.

“Then I’ll make sure to give them a great show on my way out,” Remus answered, continuing to smile even as he began to fidget his hands inside of his pockets. The room was quiet.

“What kind’ve earring would you like, then?” Mundungus finally spoke up, examining the old food he’d picked out from between his teeth. “I think a nice silver ‘oop would suit you.” 

Lupin let out a single, low chuckle, looking the skittish wizard in the eye. “I think a stud might work better for our purposes.” 


	3. Chapter 3

Remus reached his hand up to his right earlobe, twisting his fingers around the small stud that had been set in place two days earlier. Its small gold face had a tiny diamond set into it that glinted when Remus tilted his head just right. Although George had recommended a salve to heal the wound quickly, Remus still found himself distracted by the piercing whenever his mind wandered.

“Are you ready?” Shacklebolt’s voice came from over Remus’s shoulder. The wizard swallowed, turning back to look at the Auror. 

“As I’ll ever be,” the wizard shrugged one shoulder, tucking a hand into his pocket. He had chosen his most durable camping clothes and packed a rucksack despite knowing that it would be taken from him as soon as he was captured. He felt like a foolish schoolboy, standing out at the end of a country lane at dusk, fog rolling in towards them. 

“I left a letter for Tonks in my room; you’ll remember to pass it along to her, won’t you?” Remus turned around so that he could look at the other member of his escort, Alastor Moody. The wizard offered him a grave nod. 

“And Harry’s, too? If things don’t go according to plan?”

Moody nodded again. 

“Good,” Remus mirrored the nod before looking off into the distance for a moment, the trees and taking a long, deep breath of the cold evening air. The first of the fallen leaves were starting to collect themselves in nooks and crannies. “Very good,” he repeated himself as he looked back to his friends and comrades. “Then I’ll be seeing you.” 

Moody grimaced, squinting his only lidded eye at Remus while Shacklebolt squared his shoulders and inclined his head. “After the next moon. All you have to do is stay alive. We’ll take care of the rest.”

“Thank you,” Lupin replied with a tired smile before turning around. “Off I go, then.” 

Two sounds like Christmas crackers snapping sounded behind Lupin, causing him to wince. 

“Come on, Moony,” he muttered to himself, reaching a hand up to tug his knitted cap down into place before tightening his grip on his walking stick and taking his first steps. “You’ll have to grow a thicker skin than that if you’re going to make it through this.”

***

Remus walked West until the sun had set completely, and then walked further still, pausing only when clouds came out and covered the waning moon, leaving him in utter darkness. He pulled his wand out of his pocket, raising it in the air and opening his mouth to utter the same spell he had spoken dozens of times before.

“Expecto patronum.”

His wand fizzled, a spark of brilliant white light bouncing out of its tip and then hopping along the ground twice before dissipating. Remus blinked, eyes widening for a moment before he squeezed them shut and shook his head. _A happy memory_. He had defaulted to the same one he always had, since Sirius’s return: waking up in the Shrieking Shack, Sirius curled up against him, dark fur lit golden by the sun as it peeked in through the window. 

Sirius had fallen asleep quickly that night, like always. He ran himself ragged as a dog, sprinting and tumbling and barking, doing everything he could to keep Lupin entertained. That night, it had involved biting at James’s hooves until he tripped and fell, tossing his antlers in every direction and making an utter mess. Sirius had sat in front of Lupin with a look of absolute self-satisfaction pasted across his muzzle, tail wagging in wide circles. Although Remus hadn’t been able to do much in the moment, he couldn’t stop smiling when he woke up that morning. Feeling Sirius’s warmth against his bare skin, breathing in his scent… that was the moment he knew he’d fallen in love with his best friend, and it felt like the sun was rising in his chest instead of the sky. 

Now, with the permanent loss of Sirius still so fresh, the heat in Remus’s chest felt like scalding oil rather than sunlight. The memory tasted like blood and wet dog. It was too heavy to help him summon a Patronus.

Remus wavered, lowering his wand for a moment and leaning against his walking stick, wracking his brain for alternatives. Tonks. There had to be something of her, didn’t there? There were many happy memories, of course. Dozens. Her nervous face when she showed him her transformed Patronus for the first time; moonlight reflecting off of her skin as she sat up in bed; her cheeks darkening after their first kiss. At any other time, any of these memories would’ve been powerful enough to send a wolf spinning out of Remus’s wand in a matter of seconds. But now… every glance at Tonks in his mind’s eye was eclipsed by the rage and heartache painted on her face when they’d looked at each other for the last time.

“Guess I’ll go it alone, then,” Remus sighed, conjuring a bright light to hover in front of him as he walked instead. 

Severus’s instructions had been clear: _head West until you arrive at the forest’s edge; rest there for the remainder of the evening. Keep going as soon as the sun begins to rise. With any luck, they’ll find you when you leave the woods._

 _Luck_ . The word bounced around Remus’s head as he walked over the increasingly unkempt and lumpy ground. Despite all of the certainty he’d presented to the Order, the firm words he’d written in his letters to Dumbledore and Severus, and the conviction he’d shown in his notes for Tonks and Harry, Remus still found himself stalked by a sense of dread. It would’ve been mad for him _not_ to be frightened, of course, but it was more intense than he’d expected, walking alone in the dark, knowing what he was strolling toward. His head snapped to attention every time a branch cracked in the darkness, or a bird flew too close by. 

His nighttime travels were all a part of the ruse, proof of his intention not to be caught on his way to the other wolves. He knew their rough whereabouts, whispered by ministry contacts and confirmed by Snape in his last missive, but not well enough to be able to apparate to them directly. If he were to avoid the ambush, manage to squeak his way past the Death Eaters, it would take him at least another day to find the wolves on foot, and much longer to find a way to make them let him in. And then there was Greyback…

The tip of Remus’s boot caught on a root and he tripped, nearly falling forward onto a broken tree trunk before managing to catch himself. His light faltered overhead, leaving him in the dark for a moment. He cursed, kicking his smarting foot about as he willed the light back into existence overhead. When he looked up, he noticed what he hadn’t before: he was at the forest’s edge.

“Excellent,” he muttered, watching the ground more closely as he stepped into the shadows of the trees ahead. “Not long, now.” 

* * *

“You realize how lucky you are, of course, that he’s given you this opportunity,” Narcissa Malfoy spoke in a pinched voice. She was finishing getting dressed, buttoning the cuffs on her long-sleeved dress. Her hair was already wound up in an immaculate nest atop her head, makeup applied with expert care. It was only her lips that still needed to be painted. 

Lucius Malfoy knew this, and so he was already walking toward her from the ensuite, bright red tube of Eva Enchanted Lipwear in hand. He passed the small tube to her without a word, and she took it without looking at him, choosing instead to continue staring at herself in the mirror that hung over their wardrobe. They each had their ways of maintaining some sense of normalcy, given the current state of things; this lengthy production and performance of ladylike composure was hers. 

“I knew it yesterday, Narcissa, and I know it today,” Lucius muttered, looking at his own worn face over his wife’s shoulder. He was dishevelled, dark circles set wide below his eyes, silver five-o-clock shadow seeming to flicker in the low lamplight of the room. 

“Tell me the plan again,” she spoke in a low, breathless murmur as her eyes traced down to the lipstick in her grasp. Her hand was shaking.

“The werewolf is looking for his kind. We know the time and place. When we arrive, we will find him and bring him back here. And if--no, let me finish, Narcissa,” Lucius spoke in a hushed, warning tone, raising his hand to stop his wife as she began to protest, “if there is an ambush, we will leave without the wolf, and have a… firm discussion with Severus Snape to establish whether or not he led us into a trap.”

Narcissa lifted the lipstick toward her mouth, hand still quivering, as if she were going to begin the application, but hesitated, lowering it again. “This is a test,” she whispered, lifting her eyes to gaze at her husband’s reflection in the glass. He reached a hand up and rested it on her shoulder. 

“It is one I intend to pass,” he assured her, tightening his grip for a moment and then turning away. His frown deepened as he pulled the last of his own gear on: a thick, black travelling cloak embroidered with black satin serpents. It had been a gift from his wife, in a simpler time. It helped him understand why she did what she did, dolling herself up every day, parading herself about as if she were still the lady of the house. She was wearing armour, the same way he did every time he put on his mask and hood. 

“You come back to me, Lucius Malfoy. I will not let this family crumble in disgrace.”

“It will not,” Lucius assured his wife, face contorting into a tight-lipped smile as he slid his wand into the battle sheath already belted to his waist. The family walking stick was no use for encounters such as this. Narcissa seemed to ignore him, storming eyes stuck to her own face as Lucius prepared to leave. 

The wizard paused at a trunk by the bedroom door. It was dressed in the finest of dyed leathers and had a garish silver framing. The wizard lifted the trunk’s lid and reached for the mask that was sitting inside. Once he had it, he looked over his shoulder only once, for a split second, and was pleased to find his wife watching him out of the corner of her eyes. He clutched the mask tightly and swept down the hall. 

The others assigned to the capture were already waiting for him in the great hall, masks in hand or haphazardly pulled over their heads. The need for protecting their identities had lessened, now that the Dark Lord was a known (if contested) threat again, and it wasn’t as if they hadn’t all known each other already. Lucius could’ve named some of his co-conspirators simply by the way their shoulders squared when they were feigning courage, or the way their breathing quickened every time they fired the Killing Curse. No, the masks were nothing more than an intimidation tactic, now, and a way of lessening the amount of evidence that could be brought before the Wizengamot. A Death Eater was far more difficult to convict if you didn’t have his face. Lucius knew this all too well. 

“Took you long enough,” Rookwood grunted. 

“Are we ready then, gentlemen?” Lucius asked, offering a cool, demeaning smile to his fellow Death Eaters before slipping on his mask. “I usually prefer to give you all some extra time, lest you… forget something.” 

“We ‘aven’t forgotten anything, Malfoy,” Rookwood muttered, rolling his shoulders back and puffing out his chest.

“No?” Lucius sneered from behind his mask. “Well colour me impressed then, Rookwood.”

The five other members of their party said nothing, watching Lucius in charged silence as he walked to the head of the group and braced himself. 

“Shall we?” he glanced over his shoulders at the others. Their jaws squared, eyes losing focus as they imagined the picture in their minds. “Three… two… one.” 

They disappeared in unison only to reappear milliseconds later. Lucius only had a couple of seconds to assess their locale. They were staring at a forest that looked just like the one in the photo, the one they had carefully plotted and memorized on a map. It was a gnarled, dark wood, thrown into contrast by the soft orange sun beginning to rise behind it. 

“There!” one of his co-conspirators shouted, and Lucius spun in the direction the wand was being pointed, pulling out his own in an instant. Someone began an incantation--but there was nothing there except an owl drifting back into its home.

“Spread out,” Lucius called to the others, raising his wand to the level of his eye and beginning a slow, suspicious walk towards the treeline. “Keep your wits about you. If you spot him, shout, and remember to _only use a stunning spell_.” 

No one replied, but he knew they’d heard, judging by the way they formed a long, equally spaced line and began to advance upon the trees. 

“He will be weak,” Lucius called as they reached the first trunks, “but you should not underestimate him.”

If any of the men did respond, their words were deafened as Lucius was enveloped by the trees. The air was thick and humid within the treeline, and even the debris under his feet seemed to groan when he stepped on it rather than snapping or popping. It was as if the forest had been having a cold, sweaty nightmare that had only just begun to be soothed by the dawn.

“We’ll never be able to hear him in here,” Lucius muttered to himself, annoyance causing him to twitch his left shoulder.

“Good to see you’ve still got some sense left in you, Lucius.” 

The voice came from Lucius’s left. He felt a rush of anger and panic run up his spine as he whirled around to face his enemy--but he was stopped before he could do anything about it, something long and hard sweeping at his legs and knocking him off balance. The wizard stumbled to his right, catching himself on a branch just a little too slow, giving the tree enough time to leave a long cut across his bare neck. 

Were he any of his subordinates, Lucius would’ve expected himself to shout, send out a shower of sparks, anything to let the others know that they had found their prey. But Lucius Malfoy was no longer a normal Death Eater. He was the one who had failed. The one who had narrowly escaped capture at the Ministry. The one who Voldemort had given this final chance to--who would lose everything if he, alone, did not succeed. There had never been an option for any of the others to be the ones to bring the werewolf in. There was Malfoy and there was Lupin.

Lucius snarled, wiping the dripping blood off of his neck and looking up. “Is that you, Remus?” he hissed, narrowing his eyes and scanning through the dense trees. “You’ve gone soft, letting me keep my wand while you run away.”

The other wizard didn’t respond. Lucius’s lips curled back even farther as he straightened up, taking a tentative step forward. Crows jostled above him, and he shot a spell up toward them without thinking, causing one to drop and the others to scream as they flew off. _Too much sound_.

“It’s rather strange, isn’t it?” Lucius shouted over the last of the murder, deciding to walk around the huge trunk directly to his right. “The wolf being hunted? How does it feel to be Little Red?” 

“Am I the one who’s bleeding?” 

It was Lupin’s voice, undoubtedly, and it was coming from deeper in the trees. Speaking again was a bad mistake. Lucius looked fast enough to catch a flicker of the other man’s dark jacket shifting through the greying wood ahead of him. 

“Expelliarmus!” Lucius shouted, lunging forward as he cast his spell. It ricocheted off of the tree that Lupin was hiding behind, as Lucius thought it would, but it had the intended effect. Remus began clattering through the trees, all element of surprise gone. Lucius heard the dim shouts of the others nearby, cluing in to what was happening; he didn’t have long.

“Don’t try to run, mutt!” Lucius yelled as he began to chase, dodging branches more carefully this time, wand outstretched. “You’re outnumbered!”

Lupin gave no response, simply turning to throw a curse over his shoulder. Lucius dodged easily, not bothering to raise a defensive charm in response.

“Where is ‘e?” Rookwood’s voice boomed nearby, accompanied by the shouts of the other Death Eaters that had spread out along the right flank. Lucius swore under his breath, picking up his speed and raising his wand once more. He was gaining ground against Remus, but not quite enough, not with the trees closing in on them, morning light only just beginning to penetrate this far in. For a moment, Lucius felt a pang of fear in his gut--and then he heard the telltale sounds of a terrible fall.

Remus grunted, pulling his arms and wand in close to his body as he fell down the hillside. It was a steep but short drop, and the wizard was done rolling within a matter of seconds. He hissed when he landed, immediately aware of the strange angle he’d fallen onto his right shoulder and the way a sharp pain was shooting down his neck. These were not the biggest of his problems, though. 

“Where are you, you wretch?” Lucius roared from overhead, rocketing toward Remus. The prone wizard rolled over, scrambling backward across the uneven ground toward the small creek that had undoubtedly worn away the hillside over many years. Reaching the water’s edge meant getting a better view of what was coming over the hill--and just in time, too. 

The Death Eater stopped short of the sharp, eroded dirt face of the hill, skidding out one leg farther in front of the other, wand raised high as he looked frantically across the creek bed for his target. 

Remus seized his moment, raising his wand upward and firing a knockback jinx at the masked figure. He had known it was Lucius from the moment he’d entered the woods, even with his mask on: none of the other Death Eaters would’ve worn such a pretentious outfit just to capture an errant werewolf. The knowledge gave him a special kind of satisfaction as he watched the elder Malfoy be thrown backwards, cursing, into the brush.

“Oi!”

It was another Death Eater, off to Remus’s right, pushing his way through the last of the brush. Remus shot a disarming spell in their general direction before turning to skitter across the stoney shore until he could gain enough traction to pull himself upright and begin running in the opposite direction. 

“He’s trapped!” 

Another voice, coming from beyond where Lucius had appeared, now. There was nowhere else to go. Remus swore under his breath, backing up into the shallow creek, eyes scanning the trees above him. There was no use in trying to cross the creek and clamber up the bank on the other side; a quick glance backwards told him it was too steep and muddy for him to make it up on time. 

The glance was enough of an opening. Lucius reappeared from the bushes, more cuts bleeding across his neck, cloak torn along his shoulder. If his body language and roar were anything to go off of the, the Death Eater had become irate.

To any sane man, this would’ve been a moment to begin shouting, shaking, running desperately in the opposite direction. But in that moment, watching Lucius Malfoy tumble unceremoniously down the hillside and come rushing at him, Lupin found an eerie calm settling over him. More than that, in fact. He was feeling… pleasure. He found himself laughing. It was a dark laugh, to be sure, but a laugh nevertheless. Lucius did not seem similarly entertained.

The dark wizard did not raise his wand as he rushed toward the werewolf. Instead, as if in slow motion, he dug his shoulder down and rammed it directly into Remus’s ribs, tackling him backward into the water. A bark of pain escaped the werewolf at first impact, followed by the spluttering gasps of a man with the wind knocked out of him once he’d hit the rocky creek bed. Lucius held tight to him, the two men becoming instantly soaked. One of the other Death Eaters hurled a disarming spell at Lupin that sent his wand flying through the air. 

The werewolf tried to struggle, kicking his legs and flailing his arms, but the weight of the other man was pressed against every inch of his body, and he found himself utterly helpless. Lucius was snarling wildly under his mask, roaring as if he himself was going through a transformation. He brought his knee up to Lupin’s chest, pinning his frame down long enough that Lucius could raise his hands to Remus’s head. He dug his right hand into Lupin’s hair, yanking it backward hard enough to make the other wizard’s eyes tear up while his attacker grabbed his jaw and wrenched his face over so that they were looking at each other. With eye contact established, Lucius twirled his wand back into the centre of his palm and aimed it directly at Lupin’s throat. The wizard stilled. The rest of the Death Eaters had made it to the hill face, now, and were watching on with tense, uncertain frames as Lucius continued to pin the wolf. 

Lupin’s eyes widened, searching the emptiness of Lucius’s mask, wishing he could know any of what the Death Eater was thinking. First and foremost: was he going to kill him right then and there, or was he simply going to maim him? As if he had read his mind, the Death Eater spoke up. 

“You have two choices, mutt,” Lucius growled, his shoulders and grip relaxing slightly. Remus whimpered despite himself as blood came rushing back to his scalp, sending jolts of pain through his body.

“And those are?” Lupin croaked.

* * *

Lucius tightened his grip on his wand, jabbing it further into the wolf’s throat. The wizard could feel how crazed he had allowed himself to become, feel the burning in his veins, the throbbing in his muscles, how wide open every inch of his body felt. _This_ was power. This was the control he had been missing. A dog whimpering under his knee, trapped, eyes wide and searching. 

“You come quietly, or you make me set all of those hungry creatures upon you,” Lucius hissed, leaning lower, digging his wand in farther, watching Lupin’s face contort with panic as his air and blood supplies began to be cut off. He tried to speak, but his windpipe was too constricted. It took Lucius a moment to realize that the werewolf was tapping at the ground with his right hand: a muggle symbol of surrender. Lucius kissed his teeth, flinching back in disgust, but let up on Lupin’s throat. The werewolf coughed, thrashing his head away from Lucius’s grasp. 

“Which is it?” Lucius raised his voice, lifting his wand higher. 

“Quietly,” Lupin finally managed to cough out, turning his head as far to the left as he could while hacking. 

“Good dog,” Lucius snarled. Lupin’s eyes flashed with anger and… something else that the wizard did not quite recognize. He didn’t have time to think about it. The other Death Eaters were growing restless overhead, having smelled blood in the water. It was now or never. Lucius leaned back, lessening the pressure on Remus’s chest just enough that he could speak his incantation and step away in the same moment.

“Incarcerous!” 

Ropes sprung from Lucius’s wand, wrapping themselves unceremoniously around the werewolf’s middle, tying down his hands and wrapping around his ankles. Another flick of Lucius’s wand meant that another rope was summoned to fit between Remus’s teeth, forcing him to bite down on them like a gag. With one simple spell, Remus Lupin was left defenseless and shaking on the ground. A wicked grin spread across Lucius’s face, hidden beneath his mask, and he stood back, heaving deep breaths, pointing at the bound werewolf with his wand. 

“A gift,” Lucius crowed, turning to face his co-conspirators, “for the Dark Lord.” 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your interest and support so far, everybody! I hope you keep enjoying it! :D

**"** You know where we’re heading, don’t you?” Lucius wrenched the werewolf up by his collar, hissing into his ear as the other Death Eaters clambered down the embankment and clustered towards them. 

Remus shook his head, grunting something like a ‘no’ through the rope caught in his teeth before wrenching his shoulder away from Lucius’s grasp. The blonde wizard clenched his jaw, grabbing at the ropes wrapped around the werewolf and jerking him backward again.

“The Dark Lord has honoured me by making Malfoy Manor the seat of his power,” Lucius growled into the werewolf’s ear, revelling at the consequent wave of tension that rippled through Remus’s body. “I trust you know it well enough to Apparate?” 

Remus huffed, casting his head away in an effort to get Lucius out of his ear. 

“Ah-ah-ah,” Lucius chided his captive, raising his wand to the side of Remus’s throat. “I thought you said you wanted to come quietly.”

The werewolf stilled. Lucius’s nostrils flared beneath his mask as he looked up to the others. He was still soaking wet, water dripping down off of his silver mask, robes clinging to his skin. The other Death Eaters shifted from one foot to the other, watching him with shrouded eyes.

“Are we all prepared to head back now, then?” Lucius spoke to the group, tilting his chin up at all of them. Their nervous fumbling continued, causing Lucius to roll his eyes as he reached his hand out to summon Remus’s wand from where it had been flung earlier. It took a moment, as if the wand were resisting--but then it was humming in Lucius’s grasp, warm cypress flashing in contrast to Lucius’s dark elm and silver. Remus’s shoulders bunched up beneath Lucius’s grasp.

“Not to worry, mutt,” Lucius sighed as he tucked the wand into his belt loop. “I’ll keep it safe for you. Now hold tight and think of home.”

* * *

It was everything Remus could do to focus on what he knew of Malfoy Manor, to lean back into Lucius’s chest so that they wouldn’t be separated. The ropes wrapped around him seemed to rub his flesh raw through his clothes as the wizards plummeted through space and time… but then, in a manner of seconds, it was over. 

Remus lurched forward, suddenly separated from his captor, head spinning. He heaved for breath as best he could around the gag in his mouth, knees bending and back arching forward, wrists still tied behind his back. Remus’s eyes were squeezed shut, brow furrowed, fists clenched.

“You should look.”

Lucius’s voice cut through Remus’s pounding ears, causing him to instinctively look up at the other man. Lucius was there, wand mid-gesture as he cast a spell to dry himself. He was standing on a wide lawn, a soft pink sunrise blooming overhead. Even with his mask on, Remus could sense the smug look on the wizard’s face.

“This may very well be the last sunrise you see for… quite some time,” Lucius finished his thought as he tucked his wand back into its sheath, checking that Remus’s was still in place. Lupin winced, staring at the instrument for a moment before following Malfoy’s instructions and looking up at the sky. It really was beautiful, a slow autumn sunrise that was on the verge of disappearing as the morning shifted into place.

“You want me to take him, sir?” One of the masked Death Eaters approached from behind Lupin, reeking of sweat. 

“If you so much as touch him,” Lucius spoke in a calm, calculated tone, “I will remove your hand and mount it in silver above my hearth.” 

The Death Eater bristled, taking a step back, but said nothing more.

“Let’s get on with it!” a gruffer voice sounded from nearby; Lupin recognized it as Augustus Rookwood. 

“Get on with what, exactly?” Lucius said in his pinched, carefully enunciated way, spinning toward the others. Remus followed suit, turning to look at the small group. His eyes darted between them, evaluating their frames, trying to put names to each of those present, but not finding himself entirely successful. Rookwood was obvious, though, standing with his shoulders squared, staring Malfoy down.

“Bringing him before the Dark Lord, Malfoy,” Rookwood growled, taking half a step forward.

“Oh, dear, Rookwood,” Lucius simpered, “your lack of comprehension does concern me from time to time.”

Rookwood’s shoulders rose up, his hand reaching for his wand. “What am I not comprehending, exactly?” 

“This was  _ my _ success, Augustus,” Lucius sighed, making a half turn toward Remus and grabbing at his ropes again, pulling at him as if they were a harness. They were wrapped around the werewolf’s rucksack, holding it against his spine, wrists tied underneath. “And it will be me alone whom the Dark Lord thanks for it.”

“That’s not fair, Lucius, you nearly lost ‘im--”

“Did I?” Malfoy asked. “I hadn’t noticed.” 

Lucius turned on the spot, pushing Remus in front of him and beginning to take long strides across the lawn toward the Manor’s entrance. If the others protested, Remus didn’t hear it. He was busy trying to keep his feet beneath him in their bound state--but his efforts were, of course, in vain, and in a matter of seconds, he had stumbled forward and nearly fallen to his knees. Lucius hissed behind him, lurching in time, trying to right them both. 

“What is wrong with you?” the wizard growled in a low, urgent voice.

Remus looked back at him, eyebrows turned upward, eyes widened in a face that clearly said ‘Are you serious?’ When Lucius’s expression didn’t change, Remus rolled his eyes before jabbing them downward in a sharp, unmistakable motion. Lucius remained frozen beneath his mask for a moment before seeming to catch on, making another angry hiss as he pulled his wand out and flicked it at the ropes tying Lupin’s ankles together.

The werewolf did his best to right himself, shaking his head and stretching out his ankles. He looked back at his captor, but Lucius didn’t acknowledge him in any way other than to give him a swift shove forward with the hand clutching his ropes. Remus obliged, though he had very little choice in the matter, doing his best to keep in time with Lucius as they strode ever closer to the large house. Some part of Remus almost expected Lucius to speak to him as they crossed the grounds, to boast about the moment at hand, but no such words came. Instead, they walked in an odd, charged silence between the tall hedges, the blonde wizard occasionally letting out a low, hissing exhale. 

The reasoning for this silence finally dawned on Remus when Lucius hesitated before the front doors for a moment, pausing before he lifted his wand to pull them open: the Dark wizard was  _ nervous _ . Remus’s eyes narrowed, wishing that the other man’s face was no longer masked, that he could read whatever fears were lining Malfoy’s features and begin to exploit them. 

“Watch where you’re going,” Lucius muttered, ignoring Lupin’s stare as he advanced them both into the great hall. Remus did as he was told.

It was a grand, shadowy place. Its former splendor was still etched into the walls, tucked among the wrought iron fixtures, woven into the rich drapes and rugs. The way the soft morning light was slipping in through the large windows made it seem as though the manor was waking up on a sleepy Sunday morning, quiet and warm as the day began. But Remus knew better. There was a stench in the air, one that smelled of fear and rot, and the stillness that filled the house seemed to be more about trepidation than peace.

“Stop there,” Lucius snapped, tugging Lupin backward as they reached the middle of the hall. Two great sets of doors stood on either side of the hall, while a great marble staircase rose up before them. Remus had never been in such a palatial home. Held in place, he felt suddenly aware of quite how small he was. How potentially inconsequential. His piercing itched. 

Lucius seemed about to call out to someone before he was cut off by a series of interruptions. First, the other Death Eaters began to clatter into the hall behind them, having clearly ignored Lucius’s command to leave. Next, Narcissa Malfoy appeared on the balcony overhead, arms tightly crossed and lips twisted into an anxious grimace. Remus was staring at her, trying to gauge what had her so wound up, when the final interruption occurred: the large doors to their collective right clicked open, and a massive snake began undulating its way into the hall. Lucius pulled Remus’s wet body closer to him. Narcissa froze where she stood.

* * *

Nagini slithered toward Lucius and his captive, her eyes and tongue flickering with dispassionate inquisition. Lucius hesitated for a moment as he watched her, panic rising up in his gut as it did every time she was near. He had lost count of the numbers of traitors he had seen her end in the last few weeks. All of those not worthy of the Dark Lord’s magic. 

The floorboards creaked behind her. 

Knowing he had no more time left to waste, Lucius reached up to push his hood back and pull his mask off in one awkward movement. His face was still damp, having been hidden from his previous conjuration, and his fast movements served to remind him of the scabbed lacerations along his neck. He clenched his jaw and stretched his neck out to one side, trying to keep the movement slow and casual enough not to alert the others to the pain he was in. 

“Is that a rotted dog that I smell?” 

Voldemort’s voice reached them before his pale face did. He was taking his short, theatrical steps over the floorboards, robes rustling around him, eyes sparkling with malicious intent. He wore a hungry smile as he looked upon Lupin for the first time. Lucius felt the werewolf bristle and square his shoulders, breathing in deeply as if he were preparing for a fight. Malfoy’s eyebrow twitched up in mild surprise, but he said nothing, only twisting the ropes in his hands. The movement forced Lupin out of his concentration, knocking him off balance.

“Well, Lucius?” the Dark Lord looked over to his servant. “Is it?”

Lucius snapped to attention, confused eyes searching Voldemort’s face. “I--yes, sir. As fetid as they come.” Lucius dared to let his lips turn up ever-so-slightly at the corners, eyebrows raising just a touch. 

His risk was rewarded as the Dark Lord kicked his head back, laughing in his disingenuous, maniacal way as he closed the gap between himself and the werewolf. The other Death Eaters joined in, guffawing with one another as if it were the very best joke they’d ever heard. Lucius did his best to chuckle along with them, trying not to make his distraction too obvious; Voldemort would want to be the centre of Malfoy’s attention, but he found his mind wandering to his captive instead, clutching tightly to his would-be reins, mentally urging Lupin not to make a wrong move. This had to be successful. This had to be worth it. And it would hardly be so if the Dark Lord killed his new toy in a matter of minutes.

“You are lucky, Remus Lupin,” Voldemort breathed, reaching his wand up and touching it lighty to his own chin, “to be so close to me. Did you ever think you would get this far?” 

Lucius could feel Remus swallow and wished he could see his face. Unable to do so, the wizard kept his eyes trained on Voldemort’s expression. So far, he saw nothing but sneering amusement. 

“It is unfortunate, of course, that we meet under these circumstances,” the Dark Lord sighed, letting his wand drift down to his side again. “The Order will be missing their pet, won’t they?” 

Voldemort waited, but Remus did not react. The Dark Lord’s eyes seemed to flash with annoyance. He gazed at the werewolf for a moment longer before turning his attention to Lucius. 

“Would it not be better, Lucius, to let the beast speak? I believe it is our intention to gather information from him, after all?” 

The other Death Eaters tittered again. Lucius fought to keep his face blank, offering his best reproduction of a placid smile. “Of course, my Lord,” he murmured, inclining his head ever-so-slightly before reaching for the ropes that were gagging Lupin. He could’ve used magic to undo them, but it would’ve taken too long. Instead, he wrapped his fingers around the length of rope that was pulled taut against Lupin’s teeth and yanked it out and downward, fast as he could. Lupin let out a sound somewhere between a yelp and a grunt as the ropes burnt him, leaving cuts on his already chafed lips. His eyes flashed to Lucius’s face, and the wizard realized that it was the first time they were truly seeing one another. Lucius noticed a shiver run up his spine--but then he was clicking his tongue in involuntary disgust and stepping backward, pushing Lupin forward to face further inspection.

“I must confess, Remus, that I am surprised to see you. I was not feeling particularly… confident in Lucius’s endeavour. He has been… struggling of late, you see.” 

Voldemort spoke to the werewolf like an old school friend, a friendly confessional while standing in line at the pub. Remus remained silent. 

“And yet here you are, relatively intact, seemingly ensnared.” 

More silence. Nagini hissed, meandering her way closer to the werewolf. Still he held his ground. From where he was positioned, Lucius could tell that the bound man was not avoiding eye contact with the Dark Lord. A distant memory of Severus explaining the werewolf’s proficiency with Occlumency flickered through his mind. 

“It leaves me to wonder, Remus,” Voldemort breathed, wand twitching in his hand, “if you didn’t  _ choose _ to be here, today.” 

The Death Eaters spoke in hushed whispers to one another. Lucius made out one of them saying ‘I knew it.’ For this, he did not bother to keep his face empty. His loathing was painted across his features in one broad stroke, not likely to be wiped away any time soon. Treacherous, loathsome--

“You give me too much credit, Voldemort,” Remus finally spoke. This shut the other Death Eaters up instantly. Lucius froze, eyes locking straight ahead, too worried to see how the Dark Lord might react. “I would hardly be a match for one of your contingents at the best of times, let alone after a full moon.” 

The werewolf’s voice was ragged, likely with dehydration, but calm. Lucius had heard him speak that way to Severus before. It was a tone that spoke of unsentimental distaste, rather than quivering fear. 

“Ah, did you hear that, Lucius?” Voldemort’s gaze flickered back to Malfoy. “The creature would like to make sure you’re credited for your victory.” 

The Death Eaters broke out in mocking laughter again. Lucius tried to focus his attention on lowering his shoulders and slowing down his heart rate.

“Endearing, my Lord,” the wizard sneered. Voldemort watched him for a moment longer, evaluating his response, before quirking his head in a slight nod and turning back to the werewolf. 

“In any case,” the Dark Lord spoke, raising both of his hands in a carefree gesture and taking a step back from his prey, “it hardly matters now. Whatever your reasons for coming, you are now in our care. In Lucius’s care, specifically.”

Remus sniffed and looked away as Voldemort wheeled on the Death Eater again. “I know you’ve been missing your hounds since Nagini had her midnight snack. Perhaps you’ll remember to put a muzzle on this one.”

Lucius’s lips twitched. “Of course, my Lord.” 

“And you, Narcissa?” Voldemort called out in his booming voice, tilting his head back to indicate that he was, in fact, shouting for the lady of the Manor. Lucius looked up to her, stomach twisting, and saw her startling to attention, running her hands down the front of the dress even though she was well out of Voldemort’s line of sight. 

“You’ll do well to make note of this arrangement; you will need to support your husband in the days ahead. I am entrusting him to break in this half-blood bitch, after all.”

Lucius winced, but remained focused on his wife, reading her expression as best he could from where he was standing. She straightened up, took a deep breath. “Of course, my Lord,” she spoke in a demure voice, just loud enough to be heard from above. 

Voldemort offered his best skull grin to Lucius. “I expect results, Lucius. It should be easy enough, for an experienced dog trainer such as yourself.”

“Yes, my Lord,” Lucius murmured, bowing his head again. “You have my word.”

“Good,” Voldemort mused, turning back to the werewolf. “Good…”

All at once, the Dark Lord was done with the interaction. He looked the werewolf up and down one last time, let his tongue dart out over his thin lips, and then turned to the other Death Eaters. “Follow me into the study.”

Lucius watched them go, locked to the spot, the gravity of Voldemort’s command burrowing deeper into his psyche with every passing second. What did he  _ want _ , exactly? Information? Torture? To weaponize the wolf? Answering those questions would only be the first of Lucius’s challenges. Working for the Dark Lord required an ability to seamlessly predict what would please him the most, and lately, Lucius had made an unspeakable number of false guesses.

Lucius scowled, tugging at Remus’s binds and turning back toward the staircase without saying anything else. The doors to the study clicked shut as the werewolf stumbled along in front of the wizard, faltering for a moment when Malfoy directed them past the stairs to a much smaller door that was tucked into the wall they backed onto. 

“Taking me to the kennels?” Remus asked in a quiet, mocking tone. 

“Of course not,” Lucius chided the werewolf, reaching for his dark wand and making the tiniest wave with it to open the door before them. “I told you you wouldn’t be seeing the sun for quite some time, didn’t I?” 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who’s been commenting and liking! I’m having so much fun sharing this with you!! I’m sorry for the longer gap between chapters, life just be like that sometimes. To make up for it, I have a nice long chapter for ya. 
> 
> Head's up that this chapter includes physical violence and a brief mention of su*c*dal ideation. Ok bye ily

The cellar was cold and dark, lit by a single lamp near the entrance. Thick iron bars had been installed recently, at Lucius’s request. There were three cells lined up beside each other, separated by thick metal sheets, but it was the centre stall which Lucius flicked open with his wand as he and the werewolf approached. He had set his mask down by the door.

“What is this place?” Remus grumbled as he stumbled across the white stone floor.

“Surely even you can piece together that you’re being imprisoned,” Lucius sneered as he grabbed at the werewolf’s bag and used it as traction to spin him around. 

The two men stood in silence for a moment, facing each other for the first time since the forest. Lupin’s eyes were quieter than Lucius had anticipated they would be. He had expected to see defiance, anger, self-righteousness--but instead he found himself staring into the eyes of a man who was tired, and only mildly interested.

“Is that not exciting enough for you?” Lucius snarled, raising his wand up to Lupin’s chin. The werewolf flinched and rocked backward on his feet, still off-balance without the use of his arms. Lucius felt a small thrill of pleasure flutter in his chest. 

“Being imprisoned? I’m afraid it all feels very predictable to me,” the werewolf sighed, taking a small step back to try to right himself.

“Mm, well, I suppose you do have a point,” Lucius puckered his lips in thought, looking away for an instant, as if considering something of great importance. “Perhaps it would be more interesting if I left you bound like that until tomorrow? Give you some extra time to think about your… predicament?”

Lupin’s nostrils flared, shifting his shoulders as best he could against his restraints, but still his eyes did not spark. “I would prefer if you didn’t. It’s far more difficult to train a crippled dog, isn’t it?”

Lucius’s eyebrow twitched. He froze, wand held against Lupin’s throat for a moment longer, before letting a long, slow breath escape his lips and offering the werewolf a cold smile. “A clever ploy.”

Remus snorted out something like a laugh, finally casting his gaze aside, to the bars behind Lucius. “Just playing to low standards, Lucius.” 

Malfoy’s lips formed a hard line as he dashed his wand through the air in one sharp motion, causing a magical blade to slice through the ropes he had summoned before. They hissed before hitting the floor and turning to ash, but neither of the men were paying attention. Lupin was curling forward, grunting in pain as he moved his arms and shoulders forward for the first time since his capture. Lucius had no patience for the werewolf’s discomfort, and no interest in waiting to see whether it was an act meant to trick him into letting down his guard.

“Take off your pack and hand it to me,” Lucius commanded, lowering his wand the smallest amount as he watched the werewolf.

“I don’t know if I can quite move my arms like that yet, Lucius,” Remus grunted, looking back up to his captor. There was something like annoyance in his eyes, now. Lucius felt his throat tighten.

“You will  _ move _ ,” Lucius snarled, taking one long stride to close the space between them, reaching out with his empty hand and grabbing at Remus’s jaw and face, causing the werewolf’s torn lips to pucker outward, “in whatever ways I tell you to.”

The tiniest of microexpressions flashed across the werewolf’s face, a prideful rage that contorted his face for an instant before the dispassionate contempt returned. Remus ground his teeth and tried to look away, but Lucius was having none of it. He yanked the werewolf’s face back toward him, digging his gloved hand in deeper to the other man’s skin, wishing that his fingertips were exposed so that he could watch his nails dig in and draw blood. 

“ _ What _ ?” Remus mumbled between his squished lips.

“Take. Off. Your.  _ Pack _ .” Lucius heard himself speak in a low, measured way that sounded more like a threat than a command. Remus seemed to notice it too, brows digging deeper.

“You’ll have to let go of me, then,” he muttered.

“I don’t think so,” Lucius replied as his pinched smile returned to his thin lips. “I think I’d rather like to see you do as you’re told while I’ve got you muzzled like this.” 

Remus’s eyes danced down to the wizard’s waist, flickering over the spot where his wand sat in bright contrast to Malfoy’s dark clothes. Lucius raised his wand and dug it into Remus’s left shoulder joint in response. Remus yelped in pain, buckling over, right hand reaching up to shove Lucius’s wand away, but Malfoy simply dug his wand in again and twisted Lupin’s face to look into his own once more. Lucius leaned closer, able to smell the scent of mothballs and wet leather that was wafting off of the werewolf.

“This is the last time I will ask nicely,” the wizard practically purred, upper lip twitching to show his white teeth, lower jaw jutting out, nostrils flaring.

“Fine,” Remus grunted, a small moan of relief escaping his lips when Lucius lifted his wand away from the werewolf’s sore joint, “but only because you’re being so kind.” 

The werewolf moved to look at his arms and shoulders as they worked to shake off the rucksack, but Lucius interrupted, jerking Lupin’s face back towards his own and staring into his eyes. Remus parted his lips as if to say something, but then thought better of it, instead focusing on managing his pain as he wrenched the bag off of his shoulders and let it drop to the floor. He looked expectantly into Lucius’s eyes, waiting for what would happen next.

“Do you take me for a fool, Remus?” Lucius snarled, glancing down at the bag out of the corner of his eye.

“Do you want me to answer that honestly, Lucius?” Remus smirked, doing his best to straighten out his spine despite Lucius’s tight grip on his face. The wizard ignored his quip.

“I told you to give it to me, not throw it on the ground. Pick it up,” Lucius snapped, nodding his head down at the bag. 

“Again, Lucius, I’m not sure if you’re grasping the fundamentals of anatomy if you expect me to pick something up while you do this to my fa—”

Lucius cut the werewolf off by digging three of his gloved fingers into Lupin’s mouth, slipping them between the werewolf’s teeth and left cheek before he had a chance to bite down. Once secured, Lucius pulled his fingers to the right, forcing Remus to lurch along with them or risk further injury. It was an absolutely mad thing to do, putting one’s hand into a werewolf’s mouth, but the gloves were graded for dragon handling, and Remus had already looked depleted  _ before _ being tied up and dragged to the manor. Not wanting to put anything to chance, Lucius slipped his wand into his sleeve and used his newly freed hand to grab at the werewolf’s still-dampened hair and pull it backwards.

* * *

Malfoy’s assault left Remus twisted and bent over to his left side, eyes watering, coughing on the taste in his mouth. 

“I believe you should be able to reach it now.”

Lupin tried his best to swallow, teeth and tongue exposed as he looked up at Lucius out of the corners of his wet, bloodshot eyes. The wizard smiled again in response, but this time, there was some genuine pleasure in his expression, albeit the sick kind afforded to him by watching someone suffer. Lupin hesitated for only a moment longer before reaching down and fumbling for his bag, head still being held in place by Lucius’s violent grip. 

Remus lifted the bag up and attempted to swallow again before shoving it into Malfoy’s chest as hard as he could. The action caught Lucius off guard, causing him to loosen his grip just long enough for Lupin to wriggle backwards, leaving the bag pressed against the other wizard as he went. Lucius righted himself without missing a beat. 

“You made that far more difficult than it needed to be, mutt,” Lucius sighed as he wiped off his wet glove on the exterior of the other wizard’s rucksack. Remus said nothing, instead glancing over his shoulder to determine how far he was from the wall. He took a few short, hunched steps back before feeling the stone against his back. He let himself slump into it, beginning to massage his wrists as he watched Lucius rifle through his belongings. There were some clothes, a journal, a copy of the  _ Prophet _ , a bit of food and a few toiletries, a couple of bars of chocolate, and the grand prize: enough Wolfsbane Potion to last two moons.

Lucius did not seem to recognize it at first, lifting one of the bottles in front of him and cocking one dark brow at it.

“Your friend made it,” Remus explained, another weak smirk flickering across his lips. Recognition snapped into place, contorting Lucius’ expression first into one of disgust and then smug pleasure. The wizard shoved the potions back into the rucksack before zipping it shut once more. 

“What a generous gift,” Lucius sneered. “I’ll be sure to take good care of your supply.”

“You’ll want it if I make it through the month,” Remus cautioned, reaching one of his hands up to massage the back of his neck, now. “I’ll be far more difficult to keep behind bars by the next full moon.” 

“Mm,” Lucius nodded, eyes darting back down to the pack. “If you make it through the month.” 

Distracted tension lingered in the air for another moment before a loud banging sounded overhead, followed by a screech of mad laughter. Bellatrix. Remus kissed his teeth, shaking his hair out of his eyes and looking back to Lucius. The other wizard had clearly been shaken from his reverie as well.

“I wouldn’t waste too much time thinking about how long you’ll be in here for, Lupin,” Lucius instructed, straightening up. “Your days will be long enough without you counting them.”

“Is that a promise?” Remus asked, lips twitching. Lucius’s nostrils flared. 

“The Dark Lord was right, you know,” Lucius began, turning his back on Lupin and sliding the rucksack through the bars.

“About your incompetence?” Remus pushed again, expression falling for the split second that Lucius wasn’t looking at him. 

“About the… suspicious nature of your capture,” Lucius pressed on, ignoring Remus’s jab as he spun around again, cloak wheeling behind him.

“Ah,” Remus sighed, tucking his hands into his pockets. His calm mask remained in place, although his heart began to beat just the tiniest bit faster.

“You saw us before we saw you. You could’ve just left. Disapparated.” 

“Where’s the fun in that?” Remus shrugged one shoulder, eyes darting down to Lucius’s feet as the other wizard began to advance towards him.

“You weren’t too weak to do it, either,” Lucius pressed on, “you managed just fine when we left together.” 

“Only with your support,” Remus licked his lips, gathering up dried blood before turning and spitting it out onto the ground. He saw Lucius flinch out of the corner of his eye.

“Was it a death wish, then?” Lucius muttered, pausing only two steps away from Remus. The younger wizard could smell the sweat and leather and stress on Lucius at this distance.

“Why would I want to die?” Remus raised his eyebrows, tilting his chin down so that he was looking up at Lucius.

“An interesting question,” Lucius replied, cocking an eyebrow and pursing his lips. He let his wand slip out from his sleeve, tucking it into its sheath in his belt again. Remus tried not to make it obvious that he noticed the movement, tried not to let his eyes linger on the wizard’s now empty hands. 

“You’re being foolish, Lucius,” Remus exhaled, meeting Lucius’s gaze again. “You’re overthinking it. You gave me the chance to kill you. I was going to take it.”

“No,” Lucius shook his head, taking another step closer. “That’s not true. If you’d wanted to, you could’ve ended me before I’d even known you were there.” 

“What can I say,” Remus sneered, eyes narrowing. “I like to play with my food.”

Lucius froze, and for one impossibly pleasurable moment, Remus saw the other wizard’s eyes widen with fear. 

“No,” Lucius repeated, hovering close to his underclassman. “No, I think that there  _ is _ a reason you wanted to be captured. I think you  _ do _ have a deathwish.” 

Remus rolled his eyes. “Alright,” he muttered, “father knows best.”

Lucius smirked, exhaling one short, hot breath that found its way onto Remus’s bare neck. Remus was several inches taller than Malfoy, but slouched against the wall, they were closely matched.

“Whatever could it be...” Lucius hissed, evaluating Remus’s features. “Not your condition, surely. You’ve always enjoyed being special, haven’t you?”

Remus chuckled and looked away, not wanting to give the accusation the dignity of a response.

“No? Couldn’t be your girlfriend, either—last I heard, she was quite well.”

Remus’s eyes widened before he had a chance to control himself, and his stomach flipped, as if he had fallen off the last step. He recovered quickly, casting Lucius a smile. No point in hiding it; there was no way his reaction would’ve snuck past his captor, especially at this proximity.

“Has Snape been gossiping about my love life?” he teased. “How depressing.” 

“Ah,” Lucius’s voice dropped, and he leaned in closer, bringing his mouth to Remus’s ear. The one with the earring. Remus bristled and clenched his jaw. “Not your girlfriend, then. Perhaps someone you’ve already lost?”

Remus blinked rapidly. He had known this would come. He just had to breathe through it. 

“I’ve lost too many,” Remus grunted, turning his head away. “You’ll have to be more specific.”

“We both watched it happen, Remus,” Lucius murmured. “You don’t have to pretend.”

“I’m not pretending anything, Lucius,” Remus tried his best to sound exhausted by the interaction, shuffling his shoulders as he tried to wiggle away from his captor’s threatening words. His hands must’ve grazed too close to Lucius’s midriff as he moved, because the Death Eater’s left hand snapped down to Remus’s right in an instant, catching his wrist and holding it in place with a vice-like grip. Remus grimaced.

“I could imagine it, you know,” Lucius was purring again. Remus could feel the other man’s lips against his piercing, jostling the metal in place, and wondered what his words must sound like on the other end. Were they listening? Would they stop, hearing this? Remus could imagine Molly turning red and leaving the room. “You wanting to throw your life away without him by your side.”

“Could you?” Remus shuddered but tried his best not to flinch away. This was a game he would have to get used to playing. “I wonder if that imagination ever gets you into any trouble.” 

Lucius did not reply, choosing instead to twist Remus’s wrist and crush it against the wall behind them. Remus made a sound somewhere between a hiss and a whine, grinding his teeth together and squeezing his eyes shut while he let the jolt of pain run through him.

Lucius straightened up, and when Remus managed to open his eyes again, he saw the Death Eater was watching him like a ravenous beast. He might as well have been slobbering. 

“Did I ever tell you about the day that I found you, Remus?” Lucius asked. His grey eyes were scrunched up with a smile, crows feet deepening around them. 

“What?” Remus grunted. This time, he did not have to feign his exasperation.

“Have I ever told you about the day that I found you together in the Astronomy Tower stairs? I suppose not. I could’ve sworn I mentioned it to you once in class…”

“The Astronomy Tower…?” Remus shook his head, searching for some clarity.

“I’ve always been… surprised by the location. Would’ve thought you’d tell him somewhere a bit less public. But then perhaps that would’ve taken all the fun out of it.” 

“Get to the point, Lucius,” Remus muttered.

Lucius twisted the other wizard’s hand again, pushing it farther behind him. Remus arched his head back in pain, long scars flashing across his face and neck in the low light. 

“I thought you were going to be sick. You were young, of course, but old enough to be terrified of telling someone you’d fallen in love. It was pitiful.” 

The memory struck him like lightning, and Remus felt himself sag even further down the wall. Lucius hissed, reaching out and grabbing the collar of Remus’s jacket with his wand hand, pulling him back up so that they were at the same level again. He twisted the fabric there, too, so that he was beginning to cut off Remus’s airflow. The younger wizard pushed back against the wall, trying to make some space between his skin and Lucius’s fist.

“I wish I could’ve heard you more clearly. It was like watching a child admit to doing something terrible. You started to cry, didn’t you? Merlin, Sirius’s face, it was—”

“Don’t.”

The word hung between them. Remus started cursing himself even as he turned to face Lucius, nostrils flaring, brows set in a determined line.

“Don’t what?” Lucius pouted. His eyes were twinkling as if he were about to open the biggest parcel on Christmas morning.

“Don’t—I don’t need to hear it. You’ve made your point.”

“No, no,” Lucius grinned, “please, don’t censor yourself. We’re going to have to be candid with each other if this is going to go anywhere.”

“Where would you like it to go, exactly?” Remus asked, trying to seize the opportunity to change the topic. Lucius saw right through him.

“Ah, ah, ah. Tell me what you didn’t want me to say, mutt.”

Lucius’s voice was almost shaking as he twisted Remus’s wrist again, pushing his fist up under the wizard’s Adam’s Apple. Remus tried to swallow, head beginning to feel as though it might float away.

The dark wizard was waiting for Remus to respond, but he managed to keep his mouth shut, bracing himself for another jolt of pain. It didn’t come. He looked back to Lucius to find him looking even more giddy.

“Is it his  _ name _ , Lupin?” the Death Eater hummed. Remus felt his throat tighten, but it was not from the Death Eater’s fist digging into his flesh. 

“Does it upset you when I talk about  _ Sirius _ ?” Lucius contorted Remus even further. The younger man clenched his jaw and looked downward, focusing on what shaky breaths he could manage to take in.

“I would’ve thought you’d be a bit more challenging,” Lucius chuckled, pushing up on Remus’s throat, forcing him to stand up straight in order to keep breathing. Still, the scarred wizard kept his eyes trained downward. “This won’t be any fun at all if all I have to do is talk about your dead  _ boyfriend _ .”

Remus stilled, clenching his jaw and turning so that he could look Lucius in the face.

“Oh!” Lucius’s smile widened. “Then you were never truly a  _ couple _ ?”

“You should ask Snape,” Remus choked. “He seems invested.” 

Lucius let out one loud bark of laughter. “No need,” he sighed, taking half a step back. “You and I will have all the time in the world to talk about it.”

Remus was embarrassed by the frantic breath he sucked in as the pressure lessened from his throat, and taken aback by the look of ecstatic pleasure that flickered over Lucius’s face as he watched. He raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“What is it?” Lucius asked, his uplifted mood not shaken.

“I suppose I hadn’t expected you to be so… starved for power,” Remus admitted, tilting his head to the side. “Usually a man—well, you’ve seen how Voldemort is—"

Lucius’s shoulders tightened. “You will address the Dark Lord by his title so long as you are in this house.”

Remus watched Lucius for a moment, trying to evaluate the Death Eater’s motives for the correction. Judging by the fear flickering just behind his irises, Remus figured it was not out of respect. “No,” Remus finally replied, giving his head a tiny shake and continuing to speak as if he had not been interrupted. Lucius bristled, eyes widening, but he made no further moves to cut Remus off. It was clear that the topic would be returned to later.

“Usually a man with power needs to escalate his displays, over time. To prove to himself and others that he has no limits. But you… well, you barely had to choke me to prove something to yourself.”

All traces of Lucius’s ill-begotten pleasure disappeared from his face, replaced with barely controlled rage. His roared as he loosened his grip on Remus’s coat and instead brought his hand up to the younger wizard’s throat, splaying his gloved fingers over his trachea and tightening them there. Remus’s vision began to spark and darken intermittently, like burning film. 

“I hope you are enjoying your quips while you still can, you filthy mongrel,” Lucius spoke in a quiet, wretched tone. Remus tried to wrestle against the Death Eater’s grip, hands clawing at his wrist, but found himself beginning to muscle control, instead. 

“In fact, I hope that you spend the rest of your day thinking about all the things you’d like to say to me,” Lucius continued, breath hot on Remus’s face, “all the ways you’d like to insult me and make me feel small. I want you to store all of those lovely memories up, so that when you see me next, all you can think about is how much you  _ loathe _ me. That shouldn’t be too hard for you, should it? Yes,” Lucius continued, jabbing his other hand under Remus’s ribs now, in an effort to keep him awake and fighting, “I hope you are absolutely livid. Because when I see you next, I will begin cutting away a part of you,” he jabbed his fingers in further, and Remus felt a shout get caught underneath Lucius’s chokehold even as the last of his vision disappeared, “every,” dig, “single,” dig, “time,” dig, “you talk back.” 

* * *

Lucius stepped back and watched as Remus crumpled to the ground, making an inhuman sound as he tried to heave breath back into his lungs. The Death Eater swallowed hard, noticing the sound of rushing blood in his ears and the way his breath, too, shook as he tried to inhale. Remus coughed and gagged on the ground, curling up into the fetal position like a kicked dog.

“Make no mistake, Remus,” Lucius spoke in a quivering tone as he rolled up his sleeves and removed his gloves. “I am not here to blindly fulfill your suicidal despair. I will make you suffer for a  _ very _ long time before I set you free.” 

It looked as though the werewolf tried to raise his head, but he coughed and curled himself up tighter instead, one hand clutching his throat, the other padding where Lucius had done his best to bruise the werewolf’s kidney. Lucius watched in silence for a moment, soaking up this vision of an enemy prone on the floor, utterly useless. Looking at it slowed his heart rate.

CRASH. Another bout of maniacal laughter. Lucius looked up at the ceiling, shaking his hair out of his face before turning and striding to the cell door.

“You will be fed and watered,” the Death Eater explained as he opened the barred door and stepped outside, “and I will have some hay brought down for you to sleep or shit on, as you please. It seems as though you like the floor well enough.”

Remus wheezed. Lucius bent down to pick up the werewolf’s bag and throw it over his own shoulder before unsheathing his wand and whispering the locking spell at the door. The tumblers clicked into place. 

“Get some rest.” 


End file.
